


The Spanish Speedo

by SnowyWolff



Series: Confident in Romance [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Beaches, M/M, Ocean, Speedos, spamano week 2018, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 22:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15059168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyWolff/pseuds/SnowyWolff
Summary: Lovino is absolutely not distracted by the Spanish man wearing a speedo down the beach. Nope. No way.





	The Spanish Speedo

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 - Summer/Ocean

“Lovi, what are you staring at?” Feliciano asked, rubbing sunscreen onto his arms.

Lovino snapped his attention back to him, a blush spreading quickly across his cheeks. “Nothing,” he murmured. A plain lie, so Feliciano glanced around the beach for whatever could have grabbed his brother’s attention.

Nothing out of the ordinary caught Feliciano’s eye. There were a handful of pretty girls around, but he knew Lovino wasn't interested in them. No, it had to have been…

Feliciano giggled, covering his mouth with his hand. “Oh, that's just cheap, Lovi.”

Lovino carefully looked at his brother, then followed his gaze to what he had, indeed, been staring at earlier. A dark-skinned man with muscles in all the right places stood ankle-deep in the water, shouting and smiling at what Lovino assumed to be his friends. His shapely face was framed by dark curls, still bouncy despite the water clinging to it. But what captivated Lovino the most were the electric green eyes that he could distinguish even from this distance. They were such a contrast to his otherwise dark appearance that it left Lovino a little breathless. However, what had initially drawn Lovino’s eyes in that direction at all, was the obnoxious red and yellow speedo that left nothing to the imagination _at all_.

Not that he was going to admit that to Feliciano, though. Little shit had enough dirt on him to last him a lifetime.

“Don't be gross, Feli.” Lovino flicked his sunglasses back on his nose, settling back in his beach chair. “Not my type at all.”

Feliciano hummed, eyes still on the Spanish Speedo. Lovino closed his eyes, hoping to catch a little rest as he tanned. He hadn't slept well at all the past few weeks with essay deadlines piling up, but now it was finally summer and he was in Italy, so he was going to make the best of it.

“Hey, Lovi.”

If only his incessantly awake and annoying brother could just leave him to actually do that. Lovino pretended to sleep nonetheless, not wanting to give Feliciano any satisfaction. He could entertain himself just fine.

“Lovi.”

Not answering. Sleeping. Think of sheep, except they don't help him sleep at all. Think of the string theory then. Somewhere out there, there was a Lovino asleep and resting and not dealing with stupid little brothers. Hell, there might be a universe in which he had no brother at all, but he supposed that it would be a little too quiet and a little too boring then. Maybe.

Feliciano gasped and said, “Oh goodness gracious, he’s taken off the speedo.”

Lovino sat up because even if the speedo had left little to the imagination, the real thing was always better. Except… except the speedo was still very much covering a very nice ass and Feliciano was doing a very poor job of hiding his laughter.

“Feliciano!” Lovino had turned a bright red, but that didn't stop him from grabbing Feli’s t-shirt and dragging him close. “You little—What do you want?”

“Go swim with me!” Feliciano managed between the giggles.

Lovino narrowed his eyes, then realized that Feliciano probably wouldn't see, so he slid his sunglasses up in his hair. Feliciano finally managed to quell his snickering and pouted instead.

“Please? I promise I won't poke any more fun at your taste in speedos.”

“Oh my God,” Lovino breathed, letting go of Feliciano’s shirt. He knew better than to leave Feli alone considering what happened last time, so he made a show of reluctance as he stood from his chair, stretching.

Dropping his sunglasses in the big beach bag they had brought, he waited until Feliciano was swim ready, which really meant double checking whether his shirt still covered everything. While swimming with a shirt on was a pain, it was much preferred over Lovino beating the shit out of every bigot on the beach. They had had enough of that previous summers and Feliciano agreed that Lovino deserved a break.

“Should I set you up with Speedo Man?” Feliciano whispered as they reached the water.

Lovino shot him a withering look. “Drop it, Feli,” he hissed, then shivered as the cold water lapsed around his ankles. Despite the sweltering weather, the Mediterranean still had to warm for the summer.

“Like you hope he drops his speedo?”

Lovino tried to to lunge for Feliciano, but the twerp just laughed. Ducking under his arms, Feli took a few big leaps until the water reached his thighs and dove in. He surfaced a moment later, wiping the hair from his eyes.

“Come, come, Lovi,” he said and waggled his eyebrows. “Just get it over with.”

“Fuck off.” Lovino inhaled sharply as he slowly waded deeper into the water. He wasn't going to swim anyway. He didn't want to ruin his hair.

Feliciano rolled his eyes because he knew that Lovino was fussy like that and instead tried to ignore the shirt clinging uncomfortably to his body. He always got strange looks, and then Lovino would start to glare, and things generally devolved further from there.

Lovino glanced around as he sank into the water, breathing deeply. He caught sight of speedo man to his right and vowed to not look in that direction ever again. Right was off-limits. Right was—very right, holy shit the guy looked so _good_. Lovino almost lost his footing when Feliciano swam up beside him.

“ _Fratello_ , you're not inconspicuous at all,” he sang, pinching his side.

Lovino whipped his head around and made an attempt at drowning Feliciano, but it would be difficult to explain to their family that he had murdered his brother due to incessant comments toward his taste in men, so he stopped when Feliciano tried to kick him.

Feliciano was still grinning however when he surfaced and it _pissed_ Lovino off. He narrowed his eyes as Feliciano stood, hands on his hips, ready for the challenge.

Screw his hair, screw pride, Feliciano was going to get it. Stupid little brothers and their stupid ability to hit where it hurt. Good thing Lovino was a big brother and big brothers were very well-known for making little brothers suffer.

 He advanced, arms raised—

Something struck him in the head with the force of a fucking truck and the world turned black.

***

When Lovino came to again, he was immediately aware of two things. One, he was still alive and well, lying in the sand on the beach, shaded from the sun. Two:

“Ah, you should give him mouth to mouth probably,” he heard Feliciano say, all innocence and worry.

“You think?” Another voice, accented and filled with sunshine answered him.

“Oh, absolutely.” That sly little twit.

The other person hummed. There was some shuffling and then Lovino’s head was moved back. He could feel someone breathing over him and it was enough to send his head rushing. He jerked upright, headbutting whomever had been about to give him the kiss of life.

“I'm fine!” Lovino shouted, covering his mouth to ward off any attempts at another mouth coming closer while his other hand moved up to rub his forehead because, shit, that had fucking hurt.

Blinking through pain and embarrassment, Lovino focused on whomever had wanted to resurrect him. And froze because it was no one else but the Spanish Speedo. He willed himself not to look down—oh, god, don't look down, don't look, don't _look_ —he looked.

Shit, fuck, dammit, he had looked and now it was even more awkward because Lovino was so very red and Speedo Spaniard was not paying attention, just rubbing his head as he sat back in the sand and left even less to the imagination. Lovino wanted to die, but settled for the next best thing which was hiding his face in his hands and begging God to open up the ground below him.

Feliciano was laughing, not at all pretending to be worried for anyone's wellbeing, especially not Lovino’s.

“Lovino,” he giggled, “this is Antonio.”

Lovino narrowed his eyes at his brother. On the one hand he was still contemplating on how to kill him best, on the other hand… Well, he had provided Lovino with Speedo’s name and an excuse to talk to him.

Antonio was looking at Lovino curiously, somewhat cautiously also, but there was a meek smile and it made Lovino’s stomach do shit.

“Hey,” Lovino mumbled, then shot Feliciano a questioning glance. “What the fuck happened?”

“Ah,” Antonio started and laughed sheepishly. He scratched his head, looking all innocent and cute and—Lovino really had to stop, God. “You got hit in the head. By a Frisbee. I threw it. Sorry about that.”

Lovino stared at him, caught somewhere between incredulity and anger because _really_? A Frisbee? He got knocked out by a Frisbee? Oh my God, that was so stupidly embarrassing, even more so than being caught staring too much at a guy in a speedo. Who was looking increasingly more worried the longer Lovino kept silent.

“I—” Lovino started, then stopped because he didn't even know what he wanted to say. “You—” He gave up and buried his head in hands. This was so dumb, and Feliciano was _still_ giggling.

“Please allow me to make it up to you,” Antonio said, a little desperate.

Lovino bit back a bitter laugh and gave Antonio a look instead. He hoped it conveyed something along the lines of _you better take me on a date or fucking else_ , but he knew that people generally couldn't read him at all and he'd just look angry instead.

Either Antonio had no sense of self preservation or was just really dense or somehow could already read Lovino like a book because he smiled and pointed to where Lovino knew was a beach restaurant. “How about I buy you and your brother lunch?”

Lovino almost groaned, but luckily for him Feliciano could occasionally be a pretty decent wingman.

“How about,” he said, standing up and squinting at nothing in particular, “you just take my brother and I'll stay here and read a book.”

Antonio blinked as Feliciano gave Lovino that look that said _you can thank me later by cooking pasta for the remainder of the week_ before he turned on his heel and settled in his beach chair, flicking his sunglasses on in definite dismissal.

Turning to Lovino and smiling a lot more shyly now, Antonio extended a hand. “Is that okay with you, Lovino?”

Instead of answering, Lovino took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. Brushing the sand off his trunks and running a hand through his probably ruined hair, he thought for something to say.

“Just put on some pants,” was not entirely what he had meant to say because it would be a waste of display, but he realized that he probably would pass out from the sheer effort it took to _look up, Lovi_.

He swallowed, focusing on Antonio’s nice green eyes. Also nice. And safe.

“Pants?” Antonio scratched the back of his neck, looking down. “I guess? You gotta give me a minute.”

He jogged off and Lovino (and the other beach goers) got a _fantastic_ Baywatch-esque view of Antonio’s ass.

Feliciano whistled and Lovino whirled on him because he needed to not be obvious.

“Fuck, Feli, what am I going to do?”

Feliciano tore his eyes away from Antonio and lowered his sunglasses to look him sternly in the eye. “You're going on a date, Lovi.”

Lovino wheezed, touching his cheek to confirm that yes, he probably was as red as the heat alluded. “I can't. I fuck up every date I go on. Ever. I can't be turned down by a man in a speedo. My heart won't take it.”

Feliciano rolled his eyes, finally ransacking their bag for one of Lovino’s trashy romance novels. He also tossed Lovino’s shirt at him because the sun was at its zenith and even Lovino’s dark skin was starting to complain. “He already passed the first test, so I think you're fine.”

Lovino wanted to complain more, but some strange, cosmic force compelled him to turn back around. What he found was an actual scene from Baywatch, except with a Spanish David Hasselhoff who would cause more drowning than he would prevent, really. Lovino certainly felt like lying down and actually accept that mouth to mouth.

Antonio stopped in front of a dazed Lovino, brandishing his red shorts with a strange pride. He still wasn't wearing a shirt, but Lovino could deal with those abs way better than anything below the waist. And they were just. As. Nice.

Nice.

Either Antonio was the nicest human being on Earth for not pointing out Lovino’s more than blatant staring or he was just that thick-headed. As Lovino once more had to force himself to look up, he was leaning more toward the latter as Antonio’s face betrayed no trace of any knowledge whatsoever.

“I borrowed these from my friend so they're a little tight,” Antonio said, looking only a little sheepish.

Lovino’s eyes fell back down, but this time it was totally solicited. Antonio expected an answer on that after all.

And they were tight, but could not be as tight as the speedo, so really Lovino didn't understand what Antonio’s issue was.

Eyes back up and he was certain he imagined the flash of a smug little smile Antonio hid behind that sunny exterior of his. Lovino couldn’t be sure though, so he pretended to be casual. You know, as casual he could manage after pulling a near-drowning stunt followed by no restraint whatsoever at all.

“Nah,” and Lovino had to clear his throat—because the squeak that his voice had become was really an after effect of water in his lungs, he was sure. He placed a hand on his hip in a further attempt of _Hey, I'm totally cool and not desperate are you gonna pay for that lunch yet?_ “They look good.”

Antonio grinned, rocking back on his heels in bouncy excitement. “Cool. You look good too.”

Lovino turned red(der) in an instant. He sputtered, noticed Feliciano snorting and hiding behind his book, and decided that he could really use that promised food now. But, he had to play it… cool.

“Don't assume, bastard.” Okay, not so much cool as the default setting, but it gave Antonio this wonderful expression of confusion mixed with a strange kind of excitement. Lovino could work with that. “Lets go eat.”

Antonio smiled again—it seemed something perpetual—and bounded after Lovino’s large strides toward the restaurant. Their hands brushed and it did things to Lovino’s heart. Apparently, Antonio noticed because he decided to just go all in and grabbed his hand.

Just like that. It had to be illegal for anyone to be _that_ confident. Lovino stared at their hands, then up at Antonio with _questions_ in his eyes.

And it appeared to convey to Antonio because he squeezed Lovino’s hand in reassurance and muttered, “Really cute.”

The audacity! The confidence! Lovino was incredibly turned on except he really was still a bit wobbly on his feet, so he leaned a little closer to Antonio for support.

Antonio simply chuckled, but slowed them down just a bit, ambling along the ocean.

Lovino supposed that Antonio had indeed passed the first hurdle: guess what Lovino is thinking because he sure as hell isn't going to say it.

And, as lunch passed with chatter and laughter, as Antonio tugged Lovino further along the beach toward the houses that cost a fortune to rent, as Antonio laid Lovino down in soft sheets and peppered him with loving kisses and admiring touches, Lovino knew that Antonio was going to pass every other obstacle with flying colours of red and yellow.

Though really, Lovino should have gathered from the speedo.

**Author's Note:**

> Not entirely happy with the ending, but eh
> 
> Comments are appreciated :D


End file.
